


Domestication

by DresdenHaskell



Series: Contingent Events [6]
Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DresdenHaskell/pseuds/DresdenHaskell
Summary: A newly-made vampire is taught the basic rules of unlife.





	Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of Van Renard's backstory.

Chuck had brilliant red eyes: If anyone saw him without his black pince-nez glasses, he told people he was albino. He was otherwise an unassuming, genially-smiling old man, with shoulder-length waves of white hair, wrinkled skin covered in liver spots and freckles, and a grey plaid suit just a little out of style.  
  
He looked old. He was much older than he looked.  
  
Chuck settled in a chair beside the bed. The bedroom ostensibly served as a hospice suite for the grandchild of some old friends. The old couple wasn’t old like he was. They were normal-old: Human-old.  
  
By comparison, the grandchild looked older than she should have. Vanessa was only twenty, but a life of ill health and malnutrition had ravaged her into a gaunt, ashen form. Everyone had hoped she'd last longer, but sometimes a stable mortal body went unstable in a cascade of sudden failures. Blood full of sugar, blood turned to acid. Nerves and bones destroyed. A kidney corrupted, a new kidney rejected.  
  
“Hey, Uncle Chuck.”  
  
“Hello, Vanessa,” he said. “It’s time.”  
  
“Cool. Will it hurt?”  
  
The old man looked around at all the drips, devices, and dialysis. “Not compared to this.”  
  
“How does it work?” she asked.  
  
Chuck pulled out a vial. “Just a simple injection, dear. The last one you’ll ever need.”  
  
—  
  
Usually the process had people writhing in agony, screaming for release. He’d seen some who tore out pieces of flesh to dig the pain out. He’d broken a few bones during his own transformation. So it goes. A moment's suffering for an eternity's lack thereof.

Vanessa didn't scream. She breathed sharply, her spine arched, her jaw set hard, and her hands turned white as she gripped the bed rails. He was right. It couldn’t be worse than life itself so far.  
  
Her eyes pinched shut, then relaxed as her body went limp and lifeless. One must die to become undead. Minutes later her eyes snapped open again, the old brown color gone, drained to near-white. She reached up and clawed at her mouth and throat. “Oh God. I need -”  
  
Chuck, ready for that, tossed over a thermos. “Drink up, dear.”  
  
Vanessa screwed it open and guzzled, grasping both hands around the thermos desperately like a baby with a bottle, feasting on her first blood.  
  
—  
  
He brought a bucket from his trunk next. As soon as he popped the lid off, Vanessa sprang out of bed, tripped over the wheelchair, and scrambled like a feral animal on all fours to dunk her face in the blood like she was bobbing for apples.  
  
Chuck had her grandparents in a hotel for a week, to avoid any accidents during this stage.  
  
Vanessa finally had her fill and flopped against the bed, sated and healthy for the first time in her miserable existence. Not that she looked like it. She’d look bony and anemic forever. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers, and parasites are always beggars.  
  
—  
  
“Now that you’re my real protege, it’s time we went over the rules.”  
  
Vanessa paced the living room, braiding her long black hair. “Rules?”  
  
“Not laws, per se. But I’ve lasted as long as I have only by following certain guidelines. I’ve seen too many vampires making foolish mistakes, getting themselves killed.”  
  
"I’m listening.”  
  
“Most importantly: Always stay calm. Never give in and start hissing, baring your fangs, threatening them with tall-talk, none of that nonsense. Never frighten humans.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You’ve seen pigeons before, haven’t you? They’re docile birds. They don’t fear humans. They’ll flock around humans for food. A human could reach out, and snap a pigeon’s neck without effort. But they don’t.”  
  
“So we’re the humans in that analogy?” Vanessa said.  
  
“Yes,” Chuck sighed. “We let the humans become domesticated. They won’t fear us. They won’t fly away. But we also domesticate ourselves. We must act like dogs to them.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Like us, dogs are predators. In the wild, a dog will hunt for meat. No matter how small or unassuming, every dog needs to feed on flesh. They used to hunt the humans, and so the humans culled the wolves, drove them from all their lands to nearly nothing, now teetering on extinction. So brought down the noble wolf, yet its kin the dog lives on, those wolves which bared their bellies and befriended their prey.”  
  
Vanessa looked him over. “You don’t seem like my family’s dog to me.”  
  
Chuck smiled faintly. “Don’t I? Loyal throughout the generations, a steadfast guardian. I never raised a hand to the Renards. But make no mistake, I’ve killed to protect this family. And I could have killed you all had I ever wanted to. So it is with any predator. Yet people with dogs never sleep with one eye open, wondering if Spot will tear out their throats and eat them. He always can. They sleep soundly believing he never will.”  
  
Vanessa shuddered, rubbing her thin arms. For the first time ever, she was clearly unnerved by him, as she must have realized how easy, and even how tempting, tearing out their throats would have been. He smiled a little wider.  
  
“And now you see why I never told you before,” he said softly. “A dog that growls and barks and bares its teeth at best gets put in a kennel. At worst, it gets put down.”  
  
“But if you – if… we can…”  
  
“One on one, we'll defeat any human. One on one, a dog will do the same. But when do humans let something dangerous get close to them, while alone and unarmed? Once they feel afraid they’ll flock together, arm themselves, and win.”  
  
“But you've bitten my family.”  
  
“Good dogs get treats. Good vampires get to kip a bite here or there from their loyal friends. A good vampire looks friendly, acts docile, and stays by their human’s side through anything.” Chuck gestured at the hall that led to her bedroom. “Or covers the medical expenses needed to keep a hopelessly sick orphan alive as long as possible.”  
  
Vanessa followed the gesture with her now-pale gaze. Her expression was muted and thoughtful. He wondered: Did she think his benefaction came from a good heart? Or did she realize now that saving her was all a token of his loyalty, a gift he could have easily declined to share? Not that he didn’t feel some affection for her, or whatever passed for such an emotion in him. Perhaps it was just pity for the wasting child. Or the wasted funds to pointlessly prolong her life. He had considered putting her out of her misery, by putting his teeth where the I.V. usually stuck.

Her parents were dead. Only the old Renards were left, and not for long. Chuck’s prior acolytes were all dead, too. In a way, turning her made her his grandchild. She might even live longer than his real ones had. It mattered little. Once he'd shown her the ropes and drilled the rules into her head well enough, he'd pack her up and send her off, no longer to haunt this small town they nested in.

Charles was an old creature, who once devoured their kind in a time before telephones could warn neighbors faster than he could run, before cars let them flock and fly away, before guns and rockets let them hunt him back from afar. The darkness of the world drew back over the years, and things like him either adapted to life in the sunlight, or they died out. Wolves came out of the woods to lie at the feet of humans and live on the sacrifices bestowed from the dining table.  
  
Vanessa broke the silence. “What if I don’t want to kill anyone?”  
  
“Then, my humble apprentice,” Chuck said, “we must visit the butcher, and pray you've the willpower to subsist on what the slaughterhouse offers.”


End file.
